Wednesday, February 11, 2009

How It Is

I have no idea why but I am craving sugar today. Or bread. Both probably. I hate feeling like this. Really hate it. I have not succumbed and am eating as normal but that doesn't mean I don't want to.

I am not hungry. I don't even feel bad about anything, as far as I know. Always have to put the proviso there as I know from experience that once can be feeling upset about something and not be aware of it!

Sometimes I think I crave to eat those things just because it's what I am used to doing to make myself feel better. However, it only makes one feel better in the very short term. Waking afterwards to memory of it is dire to say the least.

Nowadays, I don't purge or vomit so I have to stick with the damage if I do succumb. I won't.

If a magic fairy arrived down here now and said he could cure my physical problem or take the food issue away, I would choose the food issue. No contest.

I have been feeling antsy this last few days around food. I have eaten properly but have felt hungry a lot of the time even though I am eating enough.

This really hasn't bothered me in such a long time. I am perplexed as to why it would now. The way I feel physically, the enjoyment I get from dressing up and doing the dog shows, the sheer pleasure from wearing nice clothes and looking good and feeling good is what keeps me on the str8 and narrow right now.

I know this will pass. The sooner the better. I hate this teetering on the edge feeling. I also just plain hate feeling like crap which is how I feel. I feel bloated. I feel anything but comfortable.

You know, sometimes I think I just want out. I don't mean I want to stop living. I just feel like I need time out. Each day is an effort. Nothing comes easily. From waking in the morning, the struggle is on. It starts with just hauling myself out of bed. Not because I don't want to get out but because it's so damn difficult to get out! Then off to the pool. I enjoy it but it is an effort to do. No matter how much good it does me, and it does me much good. If I don't do it, I seize up and things are worse. I often long to just be able to lie in bed, curled up with a good book, and switch off. I can't do that. I tell you, it was very very tempting to accept the morphine script yesterday. I think in the back of my mind I knew it might not be a good idea as it would really be easy to 'switch off' with that. Oh I have diazepam in the drawer. That combined with the Tramadol would switch me off. But I don't do it. It's not what i want. I don't' want to switch off. I just want to feel comfortable. I want to lie down and read my book and be lost in it, not having to move constantly, to not be aware of my damned body the whole time. Even when asleep I have to wake up just to change position. No rolling over in slumber.

Writing here takes me down roads I didn't know were there. I didn't know when I started to write that I would end up talking about how uncomfortable I am physically all the time nor about the daily effort it takes (and that voice telling me to quit whining can go f**k itself. I know who it is and he can go to hell).

Okay, so now I am more aware of my body. I don't know if I can explain this in an understandable way. If you have weight trained or spent time lifting stuff when you are not used to it then you will have an idea of how my body feels all the time. And that is without the snap, crackle and pop of my joints. As I sit and type, I am aware of every tap my fingers make because it hurts. They hurt. They burn. My hips are sore and the pain travels down both legs. This is why I move all the time.

I am so used to pain, that I often give the impression of not being in any. Only John really can tell. Just like when I tried to tell people in the past about by psychic pain, people disbelieved because I showed no emotion when telling of awful happenings. Same now. My GP knows I guess because she had seen me for 10 years and knows what to look for and because I trust her, I can let her see my pain, be it physical or psychic.

I couldn't do that when young. My pain was never seen or recognized and if I dared show it, I was mocked, dismissed or treated with utter disgust. Feeling pain is a source of shame for me. I was shamed to the core for feeling pain.

I still feel that. Writing this, that voice is there telling me to delete, delete, delete. I hear can hear the disgust, the mocking tone, the shame.

This is partly why I was so shocked to be offered morphine. Is my pain really that strong? My reaction was this was rather over egging the pudding. Yet I hadn't said about the night pain in desperation, I said it almost in passing. I don't know, those who know me well say my face and body say what my mouth won't.

I tend to believe whatever anyone tells me. I know what it is like to be told something truly terrible by a person who is saying it with no emotion, or almost as if they are smiling. I know it means they have dissociated. I know it doesn't mean they are lying. That is of course the easier thing to think for any listener. I know that these awful things that happen to people, to children, we don't want to believe. I know they do happen.

Anyway, being stoic and uncomplaining is not the way I am all the time. Trouble is there is **** all I can do about the pain and discomfort. I am aware of that. Okay, so yes, I can lessen the pain much, thank fully with the pills. Not the discomfort though. No drug can give me that comfortable feeling, where i can lie and read or sit and watch TV and concentrate on that and not move. No, they will only knock me out of a while and that isn't what I'd like.

I had though doing my TM would bring the comfort I mean but alas I can't keep still long enough for that! I still get a mental relaxation from it but my body still hurts and forces me to move.

I sometimes wonder if today's problems are the result of me starving myself for so many years and also of living tight as a drum for so many years, hypervigilant, always on the look out, always on guard, always watching for the next blow.
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